Page 179: A Walk in the Park
A Walk in the Park
Summary: Ceinlys and Aleister discuss the merits of recent decisions during a morning stroll.
Date: 12th January 2012
Related Logs: None
Players:
Aleister Anders Ceinlys 
Worn Road
Just outside the temporary encampment in the plains.
January 12, 289 A.L.

Late morning, and the campsites of the various noble houses have settled into something of a routine around one another. Everyone spends this time seeing to dull but nevertheless essential tasks, such as the care of their armor or sparring with squires. Aron Haigh, typically of this hour, is nowehre to be seen as yet. Given his fondness for wine, he's abed til later in the day. But his sister is, as always, seeing things are done in his absence. Set astride the knight's courser, the young lady has seperated herself a little from the main body of tents and is taking the exciteable creature through its paces in a small, unmarked patch of trampled grass, loosening muscles and joints to keep him lithe.

*

The Flint contingent is present and accounted for. The Nayland contingent from Stonebridge is present and accounted for. As far as Anders is concerned, they should be out, moving around. It's the restiveness that brings the Young Lord out and about.. and he pauses at the impromptu area of a small creature astride a courser.. and he watches the horse snort and prance. "Lady.. are you certain you can handle him?"

*

Without glancing up, her hands soft on the reins as she gives the horse his head, Ceinlys Erenford smiles slightly at the familiar tone of voice, slowly easing the creature back to a loping walk. "Quite certain, Ser Anders.. do not be troubled." Only now does she flit a blue-eyed glance in the Flint's direction, still smiling faintly, as she draws up in halt nearby and pats the courser's neck. "..he's not ill-mannered, usually. He's merely tired of being cooped up. As am I."

*

Anders shrugs lightly, watching the movement of the horse rather than the lady's hold on his mouth. When she ceases and is near him, he nods slowly. "It's natural for horses to not be cooped up. They wish to work, and their keen minds are wasted when they are not used."

*

Ceinlys hmms an apparent agreement, smoothing the horse's thick mane with a sweep of her palm before straightening her back and regarding the young heir steadily. "True enough. Though, in all honesty, I enjoy the escape myself. And I haven't my own mount to take for a stroll, so.. this poor lad is likely just tolerating -my- unease. And yourself, Ser? How are you finding your time here?" The quirk of a smile tugging at her lips implies she may already have guessed, but she awaits his answer politely all the same.

*

"No horse of your own? How did you make the journey?" Anders raises his brows in the question. A noble without her own horse? "I shall have to speak to your brother." He snorts a soft breath and offers another single-shouldered shrug while watching the woman and courser. "I look forward to moving forward and taking care of the mongrels that threaten both Stonebridge and the Roost." And Seagard. And Lannisport. And… He shakes his head and reaches out so that the horse can smell him. "But it's not proper for such talk with ladies. How are you finding the company in camp?"

*

"I have a small palfrey, at home." the young lady explains, with a slight grin, lowering her eyes demurely as Anders speaks of discussion with her brother. "But we journeyed here in such haste, she was deemed.. well, too fragile, I suppose. I rode behind Ser Aron, upon his destrier." Sweeping aside an errant wisp of dark hair from her cheek, she watches the courses stretch his neck out to snuffle consideringly at the knight's palm. "If we are to remain, perhaps I shall find a suitable mount in Stonebridge to purchase." The matter doesn't seem pressing to her, for the time being, her thoughts apparently more focused upon the further words spoken. "It is true.." she murmurs, sotto voce, "..we have lingered here.. a little longer than one might have expected. I spend much of my time writing letters to my father and mother, informing them of our predicaments, enquiring after the health of my daughter, that manner of thing. But it would taste a lie to say I do not miss the courts, Ser. If for nothing more than smalltalk with my fellow ladies."

*

"I see.." is given in the tone that he.. probably didn't, but is too polite to say as much. "If you remain…" Anders prompts. "..after the fighting is done?" And now armed with the fact that she has a daughter home, he cants his head. "And you'd leave your daughter behind, or—" Anders is trying to understand why the lady would be out in the field in the first place. Not with a husband, but with a brother.. and with a child at home? Husband? Apparently not, if she's neglected to mention him. "Stonebridge is quite the gathering, thanks to the gathering of the banners," is given as a soft reminder. "There is the Lady of Stonebridge, my own lady wife will be there shortly.."

*

"My mother wishes dearly that I find a place amid a House other than our own, Ser. So it was decided I make the trip sooner, rather than later. Alas, that is no easy task, under these circumstances." Ceinlys' smile -is- rueful.. but not exactly upset. Tilting her head a little, she watches anders calmly for a long moment before continuing. "My daughter remains in the care of the Lady Perriane, indeed. This is no place for her, certainly.." She gestures toward the camp with a gentle nod. "..and until some manner of concession is made upon the part of her father's House, I prefer that she stay among my own kin. For now." the courser begins to fidget a little, shifting his weight, keen to be off. The young lady seems unperturbed, sitting perfectly still.

*

"Concession?" The only thing that could mean to Anders is a claim of legitimacy, but that is really nothing of the Young Lord's concern. He inclines his head, a step taken back. "I have taken enough time from your mount, Lady, and it is time for me to continue my work. Enjoy your ride, and I ask that you not ride beyond the line of the interior scouts." Inclining his head in courtesy, Anders turns to walk away in the direction of his encampment.


A little later…

Somewhat later in the morning, and the encampment is still peaceful enough, save the distant clashing of dull blades as the squires and knights continue their drills - especially in the Nayland side.. rumor has it their superior is something of a slave driver in that respect. Servants go about their lacklustre business, stewing what meat can be found on the forays into the surroundings, tossing in some herbs and calling it lunch, letting the concotions bubble and boil over stone-ringed fires. Handmaidens and whores alike make the most of a dry, sunlit morning to beat the dust and dirt from their attire and belongings. Indeed, if it weren't for the purpose that brought everyone here - and the unexpected length of the stay - it would be an altogether pleasant start to the day. Dew still glimmers on the grass as far as the eye can see, while the first few hours of the sun's welcome warmth dispels the lingering mist draped over the countryside.

Presumably, for want of anything better to do, several of the younger lords and rougher knights have spent the past few evenings a little.. well, deeper in their cups than normal. Ser Aron has yet to be seen within the Haigh camp and several of his more grizzled minions are still sprawled, fast asleep, atop their pallets. They'll likely remain so until the light rises over the pavilion nearby and startles them to wakefulness. If nothing else, though, it has provided the young Lady Erenford a means of escape, if only for a while. Having distanced herself from the main body of tents, Ceinlys is calmly exercising her elder brother's roan courser; a circle already well trampled in the lush grass. Aside from a passing conversation with the Northerner, Ser Anders, the young woman has kept entirely to herself, seeming to find enjoyable calm in the task. Pushing the lively young horse onward, she urges him into a steady canter, stretching his legs. The creature seems delighted, perhaps even a little strong. But she keeps him well enough in check as his hooves fly across the ground, eventually cutting a diagonal to work his other side. She barely even seems to mind that her dark tresses, free of her cloak's hood, tumble wild and tousled now against her back, swept from her face. Such things cannot be helped.

*

Since the tents had been raised after the Ironborn defeated in this portion of the land, Aleister has not venture far from the Charlton Campsite, a commonality that's beholden of many of the other knights that bare his name, along with the squires and men at arms that had accompanied them. Whispering words lead some to believe that he's been keeping the knights occupied with training and other tasks, so as to stem the possibility that they wind up deep in drink. Guests have been a limited thing, with many being turned away with the exception of the Northerner.

Today, though, seems to be a something of an oddity for the Charlton Master at Arms, for he's ventured forth from his campsite, sans armor and gear. Black trousers are matched with a pale green shirt, while a flowing cloak has been drapped over his shoulders, one that bares the crest of Charlton. His squire moves beside him, eyes downcast and offering only the slightest of nods when Aleister mutters, "Find my Cousin. We have need to speak and it can not wait." Then, as the squire takes his leave with nothing more then a slight bow of his head, Aleister is shifting so as to survey the main portion of the camps and behind, brow knitting a touch as a smirk hints upon his lips.

*

Similarly, perhaps due to her rather surprising presence here in the first place, the Lady Erenford has kept a discreet distance from the other camps. Or a marked one, in the case of her namesakes. Aside from her capable assistance and authority in dealing with those returned from the first encounter with the Ironborn, her contact has been only in passing encounters.. and more often than not with her rather formidable brother observing. Not an unpleasant man, Ser Aron. But a little 'odd', if one pays heed to the chatter of, in particular, the women of questionable nature travelling with the large party.

Slowing the courser, Ceinlys brings him to a steady trot and continues a few more laps of her circle. It's a lithely muscled beast, with a penchant for head-tossing and eye-rolling. But a gentle and capable hand steadies him with ease, it seems. Besides, someone has to ensure the creature is prepared for the coming days. And most of the squires are as afraid of the horse as they are his young master. Murmuring in a soothing tone, the young woman eases the roan now to a walk and gives him a long rein, letting him relax his neck and play at the bit for a time. Sweeping aside her wayward locks with one hand, she casts an idle, contented gaze over her surroundings. The morning air has lent a rosy hue to her often pale cheeks and, judging by a faint smile, she is in good spirits following the exercise. Any excuse to get away, for a time.

*

Letting his attention circle the area, Aleister pays each of the large camps a moderate amount of attention and if one were to look closely, it's almost as if he's evaluating and calculating things. Finally, shoulders lift into a shrug and as the cloak is drawn around him, he's beginning to make his way away from the camps. It's at that point that he catches sight of horse and rider, paying only a moment's heed until he notices the fact that it's a lady upon the steed and not one of the knights. This draws the smirk back to his lips.

Another moment passes in which he regards Ceinlys in the excerise of the horse and after that moment has passed, he's beginning to press forward, cloak coming to be drawn around his body as his fingers curl into the fabric. It's only as he begins to draw nearer, though still well out of the path of the horse, that he begins to offer, "Lady Erenford. It looks as though you have found something enjoyable to pass the time."

*

Having noted his presence a splitsecond before his gaze found her, Ceinlys brings her mount to a halt. It takes a little effort, a few tightly swung circles, before the courser settles with a huff of breath, shaking his mane out vigorously and likewise studying the cloaked figure who approaches. "Good morn, Lord Charlton.." The young woman's greeting is decidedly pleasant, uttered in her naturally low-throated manner as she offers the nobleman a calm smile and respectful inclination of her head. A way to curtsey on horseback has yet to be invented, after all. "..and yes.. I confess, I awoke with a sudden desire to ride once more. Seeing as my own palfrey was left behind for our journey, I presumed to at least combine my passing of time with good purpose." Leaning forward now that the animal is still, she pats and strokes at his warm neck with a gloved palm, evidently fond of him.

After a moment, though, she settles her attention upon Aleister once again. "And yourself, Ser?" A flit of icy blue eyes takes in the man's more casual attire today, not without approval. "Have you at last granted yourself a little time away from the wearisome tasks that must be seen to, while we linger?" Straightening her back, Ceinlys rests both hands comfortably upon the pommel of the saddle. The courser, with a last snort toward the man, lowers his head to graze.

*

That respectful incline of her head is matched by one of his own as Aleister allows that faint smirk to work into a small, albeit pleasant, smile. "I had heard that your horse had been left behind, a fact that I found to be a touch surprising." Fingers uncurl from the edges of the cloak, allowing the garmet to flutter out around him. "Though, it is not as if we are lacking others that can be used."

To the mention of himself, there's a look over his shoulder, back in the way of the camps and for a moment, his attention is lingering there, resting on the fluttering banners even as he begins, "I am well enough on this morn, I suppose." Turning back, brown eyes shift to the courser and then up to the rider. "I have granted myself, and my men, a brief reprieve from their training." He pauses, eyes coming to shift about again before quickly snapping back in her direction. "Ser Aron has not accompanied you on this morn?"

*

"Your men are fortunate to have so gracious a commander. And yet.. you seem ill at ease, if I may be so bold." Gathering the reins calmly, not disturbing the horse from his grazing, the young lady arches a slender brow in silent enquiry, before simply swinging her leg over the courser's withers and dropping lightly to the ground on the far side, momentarily lost to sight. "Ser Aron.." comes her voice, before she returns to view, drawing the reins across the animal's neck and over his large head, "..is likely still abed. Or perhaps buried beneath mountains of paper. One is as likely as the other." Stepping around the mount's head, ignoring him as he lightly snuffles at her dark skirts, the young lady offers Aleister a wry smile, coming to stand by the animal's muscular shoulder. Perhaps deliberately in jest, she glances beyond the knight's taller shoulder toward the camp, smirking subtly when she looks back to his gaze. "And the Lady Charlton has not accompanied you, in this rare spell of calm and quiet?" One hand rises, absently scratching beneath the horse's mane as she speaks.

*

Gone is the smile at the mention of his ill will, the smirk now having returned to it's 'proper' place upon his lips and with a slight incline of his head, he's offering, "Your boldness, Lady Erenford, has proved correct in this instance." Lifting a hand upwards, Aleister runs his fingers through his hair before allowing the hand to lower back to his side. "We should have marched by now to take another section of land, rather then sitting and languishing here. But, this is not a topic that I shall bore you with." Now, a low chuckle escapes past his lips, his head coming to nod his understand as his eyes follow her descent from the courser, "I'm intimately familiar with mountains of paper and do not envy your brother, in that regard." Hands now come before him, clasping together as his shoulders lift into an almost casual shrug. "The Lady Charlton is no doubt within the tent, enjoying the warmth of her bed and the quietness that it affords."

*

"I have four brothers, Ser, and remain willingly within an army camp. These matters do not bore me, and you are far from the first to make mention of such concerns." With a last pat to the horse's neck, Ceinlys shifts her booted feet a little, tucking her dark hair back behind one ear and seeming to hesitate in speaking for a fleeting moment, her gaze wandering across the grassy plain. "..would you walk with me, Lord Charlton? This animal ought to cool properly, before he settles to foraging. And I rather hoped to find a few herbs in the vicinity." Tugging gently on the reins, she rouses the courser and, standing fearlessly against the curve of his neck and shoulder, rubs at his muzzle with one palm, blue eyes regarding Aleister in expectation of his response.

"I have yet to make the acquaintance of your lady wife.." she muses, head canting a little askance to lend emphasis to her expression. "Perhaps at a later hour. I would not deny rest to those in need of it. I myself simply tire of remaining still." Odd, given the overall frailty of her form and pallor. But it's true, an air of suppressed anxiety and energy exudes from Ceinlys, despite the flawless manners and graceful gestures.

*

"Then I will keep such things in mind, Lady Erenford, and apologize for presuming otherwise." With those words comes another incline of his head and as it lifts and her request made, his right brow lifts a touch before he's giving a slight nod of his head, "Of course, my Lady." A couple steps forward are claimed towards her and horse, in preperation of moving along side of her. Then, there's another slight chuckle and a cast of his attention back in the direction of the camps, "At a later hour, then, I will see formal introductions taking care of, my Lady. Perhaps over a meal and wine, so that one might simply enjoy themselves." When his head turns back and his eyes come to settle upon her, the smile returns, "Lead and I shall follow, my lady, for I know not where you might wish to look for these herbs that you seek."

*

"Dandelions." The single word is spoken simply, as if it warranted no further explanation. It takes a good long moment before the young lady realises it probably -does-. "..I have a fondness for dandelion tea." Of all things, -this- gives Ceinlys cause to look rather sheepish and she casts her eyes demurely away from the young Lord as she moves forward, the horse following obediently in her wake, despite a loose, casual grasp upon the reins. Well-trained beast. "Goodness, an actual meal, with conversation and wine.. I think I have long forgotten the taste of both. A most kind invitation, Ser, and you have my gratitude for it." The young woman's free hand grasps the richly dyed fabric of her skirts briefly, raising them just a touch aloft as she traverses a few molehills. Morning dew upon the fabric is permissable, it seems. -Dirt- is not.

"It seems to me, Lord Charlton.." she begins, at length, "..that the entire camp could easily, as you say, have moved forward by now. I make no claims of a military mind, of course. But could not the levies have joined us en route? The path from here to the Roost is, as I understand it, a fairly direct one." Stealing a sidelong glance toward Aleister, she pauses. "Do not hesitate to inform me if I speak out of turn, Ser. I am used to speaking frankly among my kin. A difficult habit to break. And, well.." A quiet smile plays across her lips. "..I admit to being most curious as to Lord Charlton's opinion of our circumstances."

*

At the mention of dandelions, Aleister is looking back to Ceinlys, as if expecting there to be more and when she clarifies the intent, there's a soft chuckle that escapes past his lips before he's offering, "Not something that I've personally tried .. but we each have our aquired tastes when it comes to things such as that." Moving alongside of her now, the Knight's eyes shift to the fore, looking out over the field as a smirk returns to his lips. "Then I shall see to preperations when we return to camp, my Lady."

When the topic shifts from pleasantries to matters of military, Aleister is turning his head enough to settle his attention upon her once more, lips remaining curved into that hint of a smirk as his brow lifts just a touch, "Keen observations, Lady Erenford, but do not fear speaking out of turn. I welcome such conversation." Grasping the edges of his cloak, the garmet is once more pulled tightly around his body as he turns his attention back to the front. "You are right, though. We should have continued forward, tending to the roving bands of Ironborn along the way and allowing the levies to join us before we cleansed the Roost of the filth that remains. By remaining here for as long as we have, we have allowed the Ironborn ample opportunity to prepare and shift their men around in anticipation of our attack." The smirk fades, a faint curl of his lips threatening a sneer, "The cost for such a choice will be great."